Thursday, April 6, 2017

What Lies Beneath

My case of shingles has disappeared surprisingly
quickly.

On the surface.

The red rash and blisters are almost gone. I can
go out in public without terrifying people. A little pink calamine lotion,
covered with a couple of dots of concealer… a good bangs comb-over plus
sunglasses… and I’m good to go.

But the pain remains.

It waxes and wanes during the day. Sometimes it
wakes me up at night. Hair-brushing is excruciating.

The pain varies from soreness to a dull
hammering to a sharp stab, as if someone is sticking a thin knitting needle
into my scalp or nose or the bone beside my eye. It’s a sneaky thing, appearing
all of a sudden out of nowhere.

But I look
fairly normal.

Similarly, Amie looks much better than she
feels. The surface is shiny again, but the inner workings are still mending. A
little makeup to cover scars, a couple of fake teeth snapped into place, and
she is photo-ready. But every health care practitioner has told us it will take
at least a year for “recovery.”

And they are referring only to the physical
part.

At the end of February, we flew home to Georgia
for a brief period so that my husband and I could attend a family wedding in
Florida. Amie was to be “looked after” by my sister and other friends. After
the intense pain and suffering of the previous 5 months, Amie was ready to “get well soon!” and get back to ‘normal’
life. Still on serious pain meds from recent jaw and oral surgeries (i.e., not-in-her-right-mind), she over-planned
her time at home, trying to pack in as many get-togethers with old friends as
possible. It was pretty much a disaster. She worked herself up into a manic
state, wore herself completely out, and fell apart physically, emotionally and
biochemically.

You cannot rush the process of healing.

More than ten years ago, I experienced a
complete physical and mental health breakdown. It began with a severely bulging
disc in my neck that virtually paralyzed my right arm for over a year. I was
flat on my back for weeks. My husband had to sign checks for me and wash and
dry my hair. (Not his gift.) Before that was resolved, I developed “sudden
onset” fibromyalgia and arthritis. Then I was diagnosed with an unusual
auto-immune disease that resulted in soft-tissue blisters that turned into MRSA
that was resistant to antibiotics. (At that point, I was sent to Mayo.)

The healing process from all of that was so slow
that I despaired of ever being a functional human being again. For a while, the
only happy thought I could come up with was, “One day I won’t have to wake up anymore.”

But here’s a funny thing. At my sickest point,
when I could barely get out of bed, much less leave the house, people who saw
me would say, “But you don’t look sick,”
as if they suspected hypochrondria to be my only ailment.

With
all of us, there is pain beneath the surface.

If you are human, you hurt.

And it takes
time to heal. It is an evolution.

We may put on our shiny faces and nice clothes
to enhance the exterior, but inside lie wounds and scars, buried deep in the
darkest corners of our souls.

Rejections,
abuse, rape, divorce, family dysfunction, failed friendships. Middle School.
High School. Things we’ve done that haunt us; things that have been done to us
that have harmed us…we like to keep the wounds of painful things hidden in the dark
where we can’t see them. But in the damp darkness, they grow like mold, and
spread: contaminating our relationships and sickening our souls, without us
even realizing it.

Recently, people I know have experienced tragedies
that seem totally senseless. (If you watch the news, there’s a whole roster of
them every single day.)

I often wonder…

What
lay beneath the thin veneer of sanity until it bubbled up into a froth of
madness?

And, more importantly, how does healing happen?

Where
does it begin?

I own a t-shirt with these words printed on the
front: “What you reveal you heal.” It reminds me of the 12-step saying, “You’re only as sick as
your secrets.”

Dr. Alex Lickerman* writes, “in maintaining a
healthy and happy life, concealing some truths is like swallowing slow-acting
poison: one’s insides gradually rot.” (*author of The Undefeated Mind: On the Science of Constructing an Indestructible
Self)

As is so often the case, effective secular
principles are reflections of biblical truth:

“Therefore, confess
your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.”
(James 5:16)

By
confessing… sharing…. with a trusted fellow-sin-sufferer, the scary beasts are
pulled out of their dark lairs, and into the light.

And light heals.

On every
level.

Light therapy
is now being used for everything from wound healing to pain relief to
depression. Mayo Clinic states that
light therapy is a proven first-line treatment for seasonal affective disorder,
among other things. But if light is beneficial for
physical healing, it is even more powerful for spiritual healing.

Sometimes,
healing can be instantaneous. (Don’t we wish it could always be that way?) But
that is the exception rather than the rule. Patience is a critical virtue in every type of healing... physical, spiritual, emotional. The mending most often occurs “little by little,” as we continue to expose our
wounds to the life-restoring light.

Jesus is the Light.

***

“Again
Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the
light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will
have the light of life.” (John 8:12)

6 comments:

You always wow me😳❤️🙏⭐👍👏😇❤🙏I just love all the "What you see is not what is there" part!!The more times I've suffered, the more I choose God over all things.I've learned how I look is no where near as important as how I make someone feel.The same goes for me. No how bad I feel, I can show up most of the time. If not, God and I will enjoy quiet time.I love you ALL so much and love how God chooses his lovely vessels ❤️🙏⭐

Kim, Again....thank you. Your words are so spot-on. Healing is never a straight line moving forward, is it? You have touched my heart on this very day. What a gifted writer you are. What a gifted ...and real human you are. Huge love to you. Marianne

Kim,I remember those days when our children were young. You always wore your pain with dignity. I knew you were ill, we spoke of it on occasion. However, you would never know by looking at you.

I am so happy you have this blog. It is amazingly passionate, clearly written and personally poignant for me as well as so very many of us who have had struggles that have at times brought us to our last breath. I love your posts. Keep writing. I will keep sharing. Paula C.T.L. :)

My last post didn't go through...I can't recreate --it came from the heart at the moment I finished reading your post. So I will just recap the meat of the message and that was...keep writing Kim. It is wonderful...I will keep reposting!